All I Want
by The Convergence Roleplay
Summary: (For Liza) Six little letters written in aqua blue crayon year after year after year to a jolly red man with a smile and a dream to his name; Jenna was never a patient soul but the wait is finally worth it she feels when she is finally given the chance to sit around a hearth and gaze at all she'd ever wanted.


**The Convergence Secret Santa 2015**

 **For:** Liza  
 **Penname:** 4 Days Till Christmas  
 **Character:** Jenna Winters  
 **Other Characters Used:** Bucky Barnes, Harley Keener, Peter Pan  
 **Rating:** K+  
 **Genre(s):** Hurt-Comfort/Drama/Family  
 **Message to your person:** boom, something I hope you can enjoy even though I got several facts wrong I believe (apologies for that) and edited till I could edit no more (though it needs improvement). Merry Christmas!

* * *

 **All I Want**  
 _Six little letters written in aqua blue crayon year after year after year to a jolly red man with a smile and a dream to his name; Jenna was never a patient soul but the wait is finally worth it she feels when she is finally given the chance to sit around a hearth and gaze at all she'd ever wanted._

* * *

Jenna was five years old when the orphanage finally decided to hold a decent tradition, and allow all the youngest children to jot down letters to Santa. She was given a single sheet of paper (instructed clearly that if she messed up she was allowed no more) and a brand new aqua blue crayon from the big bin that was usually reserved only for the best behaved children to play with. The others were given old worn out art supplies that usually only had a half centimeter left to them, and were almost always covered in glue.

But this was a _brand new_ crayon, and Jenna held it with pride as she stared at her little sheet of paper, tapping her prized writing instrument in a show of deep thought and concentration, before the director told her to hurry up or Santa would not receive her later. That spurred the girl on, and in under five minutes she had her aqua blue crayon squiggling as she revealed her deepest heart's desires and then stuffed the paper in the envelope with the rest of the letters. And then she sat by the window for two weeks straight, gazing up at stars and snow clouds and waiting.

* * *

Jenna was six years old when the Partridge family finally gave into her begs and pleads and cries and allowed her a piece of brand new paper and an envelope. And she'd better not waste it, they warned. Or she wouldn't receive her other holiday gift. With a timid nod the girl scampered beneath the dining room table (her thinking spot, she called it) and pulled out a still-looking-like-new aqua blue crayon. She'd come so close to what she wanted this year; but it wasn't _quite_ what she'd been expecting. Maybe Santa had gotten tired and simply given her what he had left over. She'd ask again, and see how this worked.

She also wrote sorry at the bottom, in case she was being too greedy.

* * *

Jenna was seven when she snuck away for five minutes of private time in the foster home, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and took out a worn little aqua blue crayon from her jean's pocket to scribble on a bubble gum wrapper and sent it flying out the window on its way to the North Pole.

* * *

Jenna was eight when the kid's teased her about Santa not being real. She didn't believe them. An envelope was sent on its way.

* * *

Jenna was nine when somewhere, deep in her, she accepted that some old man running around the world in under eleven hours to deliver presents to all the 'good children' was really pretty stupid. And unbelievable. But still, more for just the tradition of taking out her worn out, cracked, aqua blue crayon did she find an old newspaper in the corner of her seventh foster home's living room and quickly scribble the same message that she'd sent every year and send it out the window because she couldn't find an envelope. She didn't wait with any hope in her eyes by the window anymore though.

She doubted there were any truly _good_ children left.

Or people, for that matter.

* * *

Jenna was ten when her ninth foster home took her belongings and chucked them all out into the snow, including a little aqua blue crayon that the girl couldn't find no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

Jenna was eleven when she stopped writing.

* * *

Jenna was twelve when she stopped asking.

* * *

Jenna was thirteen when she stopped believing.

* * *

Jenna was thirty when she opened her eyes and found herself looking at the world of the Convergence. And since time had forgotten the strange world with the merged realms and magic and miracles and impossibilities, she stopped counting months and days and years.

But she knew that she was thirty when she arrived.

And thirty when she met a man who called himself 'Bucky' though his real name was James.

And thirty when she shied away because he got too close. Too close to something (someone) so fragile and broken; he'd cut himself.

Thirty when he kissed her.

Thirty (and two weeks) when she kissed him back.

Thirty when enough time passed on be in the blur it was always swept away with in the Convergence, for her to be in his arms and resting comfortably against his chest as they held a newborn son in their arms, gazing down at aqua blue eyes that blinked back up at her filled with an infant's natural wonder.

Thirty when she helped him with his first steps and first words.

Thirty when she was suddenly ripped back to her own reality, the mythical world of the Convergence gone, and with it the hopes of a dream finally fulfilled.

* * *

 _"What do you mean? Who are you?"_

 _"Bucky…. Bucky Barnes, but you always called me by my real name, James…"_

 _"Always? I've never met you before, what the hell are you talking about?"_

 _"Jenna, you've been here before, just believe me…"_

 _"Get away!"_

* * *

 _"Do I know you too then?"_

 _"Well… um… yeah, M… Jenna. Yeah."_

 _Silence. She looked his eyes. Aqua blue eyes._

 _"Jenna?"_

 _"Mom," she finished for the boy. "Mom, you wanted to say. You're my…"_

 _"I'm Jaxon. I'm your son."_

* * *

 _"You had a habit, taking in kids, trying to put together a…"_

 _"Is that so bad?"_

 _"No. Not necessarily. Though the kids here can take care of themselves just fine."_

 _"The term 'just fine' is overused and overrated."_

* * *

Jenna was thirty when she returned to the Convergence for the second time, memories of being here the first time made known by an angel who called himself Gadreel but unable to be remembered by her own mind. She returned to a son nearly full grown and a man that waited until she'd come running back to him, even though she found him crazy for such.

Jenna was thirty when she _did_ end up running back.

Thirty when she found something stable, something true, with James Barnes and Jaxon Winters, something wonderful and her _own_ and a dream she'd always wished come true, something she'd always pined for…

Jenna was thirty when Jaxon died in her arms.

* * *

 _The Convergence is a cruel thing._

 _As is time._

 _It will grant friends only to rip them away._

 _It will grant allies only to make them turn._

 _Give love, only to add a price that must be paid to keep it._

 _Grant wishes… only to take away the piece holding them all together._

 _It tears. It snaps. It cracks. I ds._

 _But it doesn't_ _ **break**_ _._

* * *

Jenna was thirty and several months when found a set of aqua blue eyes in a blonde youth around eleven lost in the world, and took him home with her.

Thirty and several months when she found hardened, broken emerald ones in anther, and took home home also to break through the ice.

Thirty and several months when the world changes scenes once more, and she found them all a house tucked away in the forest. James supplied the furniture.

Thirty and several months when he popped the question at last; _finally, you procrastinating bastard_ , emerged affectionately in her mind as she grinned.

Thirty and several months when she said "I do."

* * *

She wasn't sure which one of them had found it – most likely in the museum, where artifacts from various worlds were dumped. She asked them each, and gave them prying looks, but not one of the three would admit to it. Honestly she didn't mind, much; she had suspicions, and then other theories, and little guesses – but she didn't pry no more after the initial interrogations. She did make it clear, though, that she was grateful to whoever had stumbled upon the little bundle of paper and gum wrappers and newspapers and other old scraps of writing material held together with a rubber band. There was absolutely nothing in common with any of the objects, except for the same message written over and over on them, in old, faded, aqua blue crayon.

She looked up from the messages after fingering each one, and took in the scene with a soft gaze. Somehow, someway, a fire had been started in the hearth without smoking up the entire house or setting the mantel afire; James was in the arm chair with Harley on his lap, looking at the flames proudly, even though Peter had a knowing smirk on his face as he used his magic to make the fire dance around a bit in captivating displays. There was a snow fall in front of the windows – and even though she knew it wasn't real, and if she stepped outside tropical heat would once again assault her, she didn't mind at all. It was the _impression_ , after all, that mattered – and oh, it was one she'd waited all her life for.

Jenna Winters was thirty when she once again held five faded old letters in her hands, all written in aqua blue crayon, and with the same words repeated over and over each year.

Jenna Winters was _happy_ , when she finally received her wish.

* * *

 _Dear Santa,_

 _You don't HAVE to answer this. I understand if you don't; there are lots of kids in the world. But I just want you to know that I would be the happiest, bestest, goodest child in the whole wide world if you WILL answer. They don't have to be perfect, or even lots of them. Maybe just someone to tuck me in at night, and play with me, and teach me things, and maybe, if you REALLY want to, they can say 'I love you' now and then._

 _I understand if you don't._

 _But please, Santa, if you really do help little kids who try to be good, then pretty please, all I want this Christmas is a F-A-M-I-L-Y._

 _-Jenna Winters_

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** The Convergence Roleplay and any themes related to it belong to Bob (TheName'sBob) and Lena (xX-The-Mad-Man-With-A-Box-Xx) All OC's belong to their respective Roleplayers. All Characters belong to their respective franchises.

 **The Convergence Roleplay:** Lost underground, characters from different universes must fight their way up to the surface. Once there, volcanic ash darkens the sky as they make their way through the many twists, turns, and horrors the world has to offer.

The Convergence is a multifandom RP, featuring Supernatural, Doctor Who, Sherlock, Harry Potter, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Vampire Diaries, The Hunger Games, Merlin, Once Upon a Time, Divergence, Fox MCU, Star Trek, The Maze Runner, the DC Extended and Television Universes and many of the different spin off from the franchises. Check out the link in the profile for more information!


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